


You Can Let Me Down Easy but Not Tonight

by mcgarrygirl78



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 11:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2427026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcgarrygirl78/pseuds/mcgarrygirl78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So, Emily Prentiss, tell me something.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Let Me Down Easy but Not Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> I told  [](http://elekanahmen.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://elekanahmen.livejournal.com/) **elekanahmen**  I needed a prompt to write, the one she gave me was **chances** and a plot bunny formed that turned into this story. I wrote it at work today while also doing the job they pay me for. The story was more fun. The title comes from the Pat Benatar song, _Shadows of the Night_.

He just started walking, no care as to where he was going. There was so much ready to explode inside of him; with each hit of his feet to the pavement Hotch felt release. It was a chilly spring night with a constant drizzle haunting the nation’s capital. The past month had been a kick in the stomach everyday. If Hotch was honest with himself, the past year had been that way. He got up every morning, kept doing it; it was all he had now. His wife was gone and his son had a part-time role in his life. 

 

While many people did not believe him, Hotch was over the Haley thing. The last two years of the marriage had their share of agony. He felt betrayed with things she had done to him but it was over now. Hotch didn’t want to think about it anymore…he didn’t want to be Hotch tonight. Turning it off wasn’t easy anymore and blocking it out with alcohol was something he was afraid he could get used to. That didn’t stop him from walking into a side door with a small sign that said BAR.

 

It was dimly lit, with twenty five or so people sitting around. 70s music played from a stereo, Eddie Money, but it didn’t blast. Hotch closed his umbrella and sat at the corner end of the bar. The bartender was at the other end flirting as he washed out glasses. Hotch liked the quiet atmosphere of the place. It could be called a dive but there was something quiet and homey about it. A barmaid walked around to tables making sure everyone had what they needed. 

 

Everyone looked like a regular; conversation was scattered but not too loud. There was no thumping music, no loud televisions, and no people hoping to be picked up. Hotch hardly knew where he was but he liked it. Whoever thought it was possible to feel so comfortable in a completely foreign place? He looked at the drink placed in front of him and then at the bartender. He was a handsome man, maybe in his 50s, with a friendly face, easygoing smile, and a head full of silver hair.

 

“I didn’t order anything.” Hotch said.

 

“Hennessy on the rocks…courtesy of a friend.” His head moved in the direction of the other end of the bar and Hotch followed. He could not believe what he was seeing. Emily Prentiss was sitting down there. How the hell…did she follow him? No, no, that was impossible. She just always seemed to be there; a part of him while being nothing of the sort. A dive bar on some street in DC, on a Saturday night when he ran from his town home to keep the walls from closing in. It wasn’t probable but it was true.

 

“Would you like me to take it back?” the bartender asked.

 

“No, um,” Hotch shook his head and smiled. “Thank her for me.”

 

“Will do.”

 

He placed a bowl of pretzels in front of Hotch, refilled a younger couple a few stools down, and went back to entertaining Emily. It was something he seemed to enjoy doing; Hotch couldn’t help but watch as he sipped his cognac. Emily seemed so open and animated…that look was rare to the Unit Chief. She allowed him to touch her hand, stroke it, push hair behind her ear, and make her laugh. She drank a martini and smoked a cigarette, no doubt those cloves she occasionally indulged in. 

 

Emily seemed at complete ease and it fascinated her supervisor. Hotch was beginning to wonder if she was ever at ease, not that he had room to talk. Most attempts at getting to know Emily Prentiss were met with an almost impenetrable brick wall. When her friend Matthew died, Hotch did his best to give her leeway as Unit Chief but could not do anything as a “friend”. Rossi handled the job beautifully. Hotch couldn’t figure out why there was such a disconnect and thought about it much more than anyone could logically accuse him of. 

 

The way their relationship started was hard enough. Emily was excellent at her job and it did not take long for everyone to welcome her to the team, even Gideon. When Gideon resigned, and even when Rossi returned, Hotch and Prentiss frequently paired up in the field. It was how Hotch liked it…they were in tune with one another. They barely had to use sentences; Hotch never had that with anyone. He didn’t even have it with Haley. Of course Haley was a personal relationship and Emily Prentiss was anything but.

 

Three years they had known each other but the barrier had yet to be crossed. As he watched her down there laughing and keeping up with Paul Simon singing about he and Julio, ways to change that went through his mind for the thousandth time. Hotch wondered if he would be stepping on anyone’s toes if he got closer. Deciding he did not care, he took his Hennessy and moved down the bar.

 

“Can I refill you?” the bartender asked.

 

“Thanks,” Hotch nodded. “Hi.”

 

“Hello there.”

 

“I have to know why you're here. I just…I started walking and ended up here, and here you are.”

 

“I'm here a lot.” Emily replied. “Mike’s been in business forever and I've known about this place since I was in high school. Don’t tell anyone but,” she lowered her voice. “He used to serve me.”

 

“I'm a sucker for a pretty face.” Mike replied, smiling as he replaced Hotch’s drink.

 

Hotch didn’t like the smile though there was nothing sinister about it. It was knowing though, as if Mike was acquainted with much more than her smile. Dammit, now he would never be able to shake that image from his head.

 

“Don’t believe him Hotch; I totally paid for my booze.”

 

“Hey now, I am running a business here. The pretty people pay too Prentiss.”

 

“Say that five times fast.” Emily said.

 

They both laughed and Hotch again felt like an outsider. Mike went back to his job; a few people came in while he was chatting with Emily. She looked at Hotch wearing a friendly but distant smile.

 

“I find you incredibly intriguing.” He said, sipping the Hennessy.

 

“Well that’s better than smelly and pale.”

 

“I'm sorry?” Hotch raised an eyebrow.

 

“Most of my young childhood was spent in the Middle East. Those were some of the nicer things said about my sister and I.” Emily finished her martini and Mike replaced it with a Coors Light. He also held out a light for her clove.

 

“Tell me something else about you.” Hotch said, unable to help himself. Here in the darkness of what seemed the last smoky bar in the universe; Aaron Hotchner was taking his chance.

 

“Like what?”

 

“Anything.”

 

“You first,” she smiled. “What makes Aaron Hotchner tick?”

 

“I have these bear paw slippers that Jack brought me last Christmas. When he comes over he likes me to wear them and we dance around the living room. Sometimes he wants to wear them himself but usually likes me to do it.”

 

“Really?” a wide grin spread across her face, all the way up to her brown eyes. “You have bear paw slippers?”

 

“Yes ma'am.” He nodded.

 

“I bought the same thing for my dad. It’s actually his third pair…he is addicted to their comfort. I need to see you in those slippers.” She almost said she needed to see him human but it wouldn’t have been right. They were always professional at the office and in the field. For some of the team it was easier to turn on and off. Emily knew why Hotch kept the walls and barbed wire up even if she didn’t like it.

 

During recent cases, since New York, little glimpses of the man behind the FBI shield were revealed to her. Emily was sure it wasn’t because Hotch wanted them to be but because he was too worn down to stop them. How desperately did she want to tell him that revelation did not equate with weakness. Since she was not in the mood for the pot calling the kettle black, Emily kept her mouth shut. While she could not figure out why she and Hotch never made it out of the starting gate on a friendship, the comfort level they’d reached as colleagues was nice.

 

She saw the way Hotch treated people that he had no respect for…Emily was definitely not one of those people. Hotch took his phone from his hip, fiddling around with it a bit. He held it up for her.

 

“Oh my God,” she took the phone from his hand. It was a picture of Hotch, his son in his lap, and his bear paw feet up in the air. It was probably one of the cutest pictures she’d ever seen; the matching Hotchner dimples were adorable. “He is beautiful, Hotch, just beautiful.” Emily handed the phone back.

 

“He is my pride and joy. I never had any intention of being a father. I mean, I thought of having kids but I knew I worked a full-time job. I never wanted my child to feel as if they didn’t come first. Sometimes Jack doesn’t come first, but I can still love him more than life.”

 

“Just make sure he never forgets that.”

 

“So, Emily Prentiss, tell me something.” Hotch said.

 

She finished her beer and there was Mike with another. She thanked the bartender with a smile. It was amazing the way she looked at Hotch, as if she could see right through him when she could do nothing of the sort. Her chin rested in the palm of her hand.

 

“ _Get Down Tonight_ is my song.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“When it all gets to be too much, when I feel as if my head is just going to explode, I take off all my clothes and just dance. I actually have a mixed CD that I pop in but KC and the Sunshine Band are the ultimate.”

 

“So…where’s the picture? Quid pro quo, remember?”

 

Emily laughed, giving him quite a sexy evil eye.

 

***

 

“No, seriously,” Hotch held up his hands. He was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “I don’t have anything else to show that won't get me an indecent exposure charge.”

 

“Oh c'mon, SSA Hotchner, I showed you mine.”

 

“Do you want me to make Mike blush? Because I'm telling you, that’s where this is headed.”

 

They both laughed and the bartender smirked as he served them two more beers, Coors Light for Emily and Samuel Adams for Hotch.

 

“Show me, show me.” Emily laughed, playfully poking his stomach.

 

“Alright, last one I swear. Look down.”

 

Hotch lifted his windbreaker, pulling his tee shirt out of his jeans, and exposed his appendectomy scar. Emily’s eyes widened.

 

“Ooh, nice,” she smiled. “How old were you?”

 

“Twelve. I was in school when I got sick.”

 

They were in the middle of playing a game called I’ll Show You Mine. Emily would expose a scar and Hotch would expose one, trying to beat it. So far he showed an archery scar on his shoulder, a fence injury on his knee, a stab wound on his lower left leg, and now his appendectomy scar. He loved that Emily was impressed with his scars, and unashamed to show her own. This included a pretty nasty one on her left knee from a car accident when she was sixteen.

 

Better than the injuries were the stories behind them. Some were funny, some not so much, but they were more insight into the two people who experienced them. The bell rang for last call. Hotch looked at his watch, couldn’t believe it was one thirty in the morning.

 

“Times moves quickly.” He said.

 

“Yeah. Sometimes I stay to help Mike clean. It’s not too bad tonight.”

 

“Are you two close?”

 

“He is one of the good guys. I frequently wish I got crushes on more good guys…I seem to be a bit of a Viper magnet. Well, you know, back when I used to date.”

 

“You don’t date anymore?” Hotch asked.

 

“No, I strike out and I don’t even have time for that these days. The job takes up too much time. What about you?”

 

Hotch did not want to get on the subject of work or his nonexistent love life…nothing would kill his buzz faster. He was nice and buzzed…ready to see more scars.

 

“You owe me a show.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“A show. Give it up; reciprocity Prentiss.”

 

“Talk about indecent exposure. That’s why we wear clothes, to keep some things hidden.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Show me.”

 

“Well, this isn’t a scar but I will show you anyway. That’s if you wanna see it.”

 

Hotch thought nodding his head like an overeager teenage boy might not be the best thing to do. Scar porn…who knew? Morgan would never let him live something like this down. He gave her a skeptical look.

 

“If it’s not cooler than my appendectomy scar, you should have to perform an epic feat of some sort.”

 

“Like what?” Emily raised her eyebrow. Performing epic feats while intoxicated used to be a regular thing…it was the reason she had some scars. Emily Prentiss was known for her fearlessness; at least she used to be.

 

“I heard a rumor that you can do a back flip.”

 

“Oh you're on. If I win, the drinks are on you.”

 

“Shake on it.” Hotch held out his hand.

 

Hotch and Prentiss didn’t touch very much. Emily struggled to think of one time they did as she looked at his hand. She loved his hands, large and masculine, yet seemingly gentle. Of course no one could say it was Hotch and Prentiss sitting at that bar, taking back brews and hamming up their imperfections. She nodded, giving him a firm handshake.

 

“Prepare to lose.” She replied.

 

“I do not lose easily.”

 

“Well to ease your mind you can call it a win. You're about to see something only a privileged few have laid eyes on.” It was a bit of a lie but no matter. Smiling, Emily lifted her navy blue v-neck and exposed her belly. “Look down.”

 

Hotch did and could not contain his gasp. There was a metal bar running through Emily Prentiss’s belly button with two red balls on each end. He balled his hand into a fist so he would not touch it.

 

“Go ahead,” Emily sensed his thoughts. “Most people want to.”

 

“No, um…did that hurt?”

 

“I hardly remember. I've had it for a while now. I think it did, though not as much as…”

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing,” Emily put her shirt down and smiled. “So, am I doing a back flip?”

 

“Check please.” Hotch held up his hand smiling. “I got everything.”

 

“No problem, big spender.” Mike replied, going to the cash register. Hotch looked over the tab and paid in cash. He stood as Emily leaned across the counter to give Mike a hug and kiss.

 

“Don’t be a stranger, Emma Peel.” Mike said.

 

“You know I'm on the road a lot. You better call me if you need anything; I mean that.”

 

“Aye aye.”

 

He said goodnight to Hotch, Emily put on her leather jacket, and they went out into the rainy night. Other bars were letting out…drunkards filled the streets.

 

“Share a cab?” he asked, offering his arm.

 

“Mmm,” she nodded. “Come back to my place?”

 

“Emily…”

 

“I must have flustered you Secret Agent Man; you called me by my first name. I meant for coffee, Aaron.”

 

“Oh, yeah.” he wanted to say yes so he did. Why not? Hotch hailed a cab, holding the door for her.

 

“The Watergate Suites.” Emily said, leaning back in the seat. She and Hotch were sitting very close but the way the backseat was made meant they couldn’t do it any other way. The ride was a bit longer than it should have been but both agents enjoyed the solitude and the company. Hotch thought about arguing that she paid for the cab ride but they were going to her place and there was no need to offend.

 

Inside on the elevator, Hotch’s mind flashed to the last time, the first time, he ever came to Prentiss’ place. That was a hard night, a hard case, and the aftermath sent Hotch on a journey still being traveled. It was slightly different then he remembered, though still as neat as a hospital.

 

“I wish you were a slob.” He said, laughing.

 

“What? Why?”

 

“I don't know, it seems like deep down you would be. I'm probably babbling.”

 

“I compartmentalize too much to be a slob. I do have this tendency to throw clothes on the floor but I never let them pile up. Oh, and I never make my bed.”

 

“Why?” Hotch asked, sitting at her kitchen counter.

 

“I don’t know, I just don’t. I think it reminds me that I don’t have to be perfect.” Emily grabbed a bag of gourmet Kenyan coffee from the cabinet, filling the coffeemaker with water. While it was brewing, she turned on the stereo. Puccini filled the room but Emily flipped around until Blondie played. “Do you mind Debbie Harry?”

 

“She’s fine. I think you owe me an explanation.”

 

“For what?”

 

Hotch pointed to her belly. Dammit, he really should have touched it when he had the chance. Not that knowing what it felt like between his fingers would do anything but fuel the fantasies.

 

“The belly ring.”

 

“It’s a navel bar.”

 

“Semantics. Spill it, Prentiss.”

 

“Long story short…I lost a bet. It was a long time ago, the Oklahoma City field office.”

 

“Did you always want to be in the FBI?” Hotch asked.

 

“For years I thought I wanted to work for the State Department.” Emily got up to make two cups of coffee. She brought them along with cream and sugar back to the counter. “I speak many languages and was used to the toll of international travel. Then I just decided I wanted to do something that fulfilled me but had nothing to do with the Ambassadors Prentiss.”

 

Hotch nodded. He could not imagine what it must have been like for her, though he had some idea what it was like to grow up the child of someone deemed important. Even he judged Emily before getting to know her. Hotch never wanted to be one of “those” people but it was easy to slip into that behavior.

 

“I'm having too much fun…you're not allowed to bring me down with work talk.” She said.

 

“Tonight was fun; I’d love to do it again. Let’s make sure we run into each other, completely by accident, at a place neither thought the other would be.”

 

Emily laughed, tilting her head to look at him as he sipped his coffee.

 

“That’s much more of a mouthful than date. I mean, not that you said anything about a date.”

 

“Fraternization is against FBI rules.” Hotch replied. “Let’s face it, its barely enforced rule that everyone breaks. I will never advocate breaking the rules of one’s job but the federal government assuming to tell one what they can or cannot do in their off time leaves a sour taste in one’s mouth.”

 

“One or yours?” Emily asked.

 

“Mine.”

 

“So…”

 

“The rules are very clear on bosses and subordinates. I don’t like to think of my team that way but…”

 

“It’s the same antiquated and oft-broken rule.”

 

“It gets stickier when one person could hold authority and punishment over another’s head.” Hotch replied.

 

“Is this the part when you tell me a scary story about Strauss wanting just a little more than you were willing to give?”

 

He didn’t mean for it to happen but coffee flew out of his nose and mouth. Sputtering and guffawing at the same time, Hotch sounded as if he was choking. Emily jumped up from her stool, coming to his side and rubbing his back. She knew that was better than hitting it. Slowly, he came back as Emily wiped his wet face with a paper towel. 

 

His arm slid around her waist, and she could smell the coffee on him as his Eskimo kisses brought a sigh to her lips. Hotch kissed her sigh, softly at first and then deeper when his proper breathing returned. When he kissed the tip of her nose Emily was sure she would have hit the ground if he wasn’t holding on to her.

 

“Lets just run into each other again, Emily…very soon.”

 

“Yeah.” she leaned in for another kiss and Hotch did not disappoint.

 

“I should probably go.” He got up from the stool with reluctance. As much as he wanted to stay, to kiss her until they were both breathless, he knew leaving was the responsible thing to do. Even if it hurt him more than words would ever express.

 

Emily didn’t argue, she just walked him to the door, holding his hand. It was as gentle as she knew it could be.

 

“Tomorrow is Sunday.” She said. “The best thing is when I am in town I always have brunch at the Georgetown Diner.”

 

Hotch smiled, giving her another kiss on the lips.

 

“Goodnight, Emily Prentiss.”

 

“Goodnight.”

 

She watched him walk to the elevator before closing and locking her door. Leaning on it, Emily couldn’t help but feel euphoric. Whether it was the beer, the kisses, or the idea of running into him again very soon, she had no idea. Who was she to question such bliss?

 

***

                                                                                                                                                          



End file.
